


Love Is

by Ripki



Category: Flight 29 Down
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-11
Updated: 2006-09-11
Packaged: 2017-11-11 01:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ripki/pseuds/Ripki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melissa falls in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Is

O

Love is finding.

 

She remembers the glance, first aimless, without an object. Just an unconscious lift of a chin upwards, eyes taking in the upper level walkway, the people -familiar, common, grey- and noticing the difference. 

 

The difference is him. And something is struck inside of her, something creating a small, almost unnoticeable echo that resonates from her head to her little toe. New, she notices; cute, her mind whispers. 

 

She takes in everything that is him. The posture, the clothes, the tilt of the head, the expression on that face - watchful, confident, self-contained. The world is static around her, blur images on the edges of her vision. He is the centre, a sharp mass of colour. 

 

Perhaps her stare is so intense he can actually feel it. Or maybe his first glance is like hers; random and without further purpose. Whatever the reason, he turns his head downwards and looks straight into her. 

 

There is no strike of lightning, no explosion rocking her feet, no theatrical music on the background, and no big flashing sing screaming THIS IS IT complete with exclamation marks and an arrow pointing towards him. 

 

She just feels self-conscious; embarrassed to be caught staring. She lowers her gaze, gets back into conversation with Daley and thinks about him the rest of the day. 

 

O

 

Love is to dare.

 

Like a curious, but cautious animal, she circles him from afar. Watching his every move, sniffing the air for danger. Slowly, she steps closer, so very slowly, heart beating fast fast fast. 

 

Inside her head there are thousand conversations, thousand ways to say hi. 

 

She says hi.

 

He lifts his head from a book, looks at her, and she is ready to bolt, ready to run and hide, but she glues her feet to the grass, smiling.

 

He says hi back.

 

The words flow from her mouth all at once, and she stumbles over them, arranging them to a form that doesn’t scream I want to know you, but not quite succeeding in it.

 

He has a better command over his words; they are measured and paced and coated with a tasteless layer of politeness. 

 

She hears the No loud and clear.

 

O

 

Love is using every means necessary. 

 

His face lights up in a real smile, and it’s for her, because of something she did for him, and the warmth, the joy in his face is directed towards her, aimed at her heart. 

 

The smile curls inside of her, setting up small fires, making everything in her glow.

 

She doesn’t think, how she persuaded the others, slyly directed them towards her own goal, talked them into changing their plans. She doesn’t believe this is bribing, although a trip to Palau is totally worth this one smile. It doesn’t cross her mind, if this all really is for him, or for her. 

 

O

 

Love is crashing.

 

For a moment she thinks she will die of mortification. When that is not happening, she just wants to be left alone - forever.

 

Her secret is blasted to air for everyone to pick it up and cut to shreds. Her words - she -   
are ripped open, laid bare, violated. 

 

They are no longer hers.

 

And now he knows the way she feels, what she is, and she is not dying and not alone but falling, and after he tells her its alright, really it is, she is still falling and she thinks there might not be anything to fall into and she’ll be endlessly falling -

 

O

 

Love is a chemical reaction.

 

A small tingle in her spine: he is somewhere near, comes nearer still. Briefly looks at her; smile optional.

 

A flutter in her heart: in that one moment, she is the centre of his attention. Often a single, intense look. Sometimes a word, sharp and true. 

 

A shiver, like a wave through her whole body: he leans towards her, his body bending closer to hers. No actual touching involved.

 

A knot in her stomach: he is withdrawn, far away, fortifying his façade, shutting her out. They are both lonely.

 

A lump in her throat: on very rare occasions the mask slips, and she sees. The sadness, the fear, the uncertainty. She wants to cry. 

 

A heat wave all over her: she thinks or dreams about him. His presence not required. 

 

A sharp shock, evening out to a steady pulsation, accompanied by a buzz in her ears: a touch. Usually brief, almost accidental. Seldom lingering. 

 

O

 

Love is in sickness and health.

 

She stays.

 

He is covered in sweat, shivering and groaning, twisting about in pain. The smell of vomit clings to everything with sharp claws. 

 

Her every offer of help is rejected; her words are met with silence, her tears ignored, her presence dismissed. 

 

She stays. 

 

O

 

Love is a dream.

 

He always kisses her first. In a hallway of their school, behind the playing field stand, in the beach, just before they turn into her driveway. She tilts her head toward his, closes her eyes and feels his lips on hers. 

 

Everything in her thunders.

 

His breath is warm on her face, but still she trembles. 

 

They match: hand to hand, forehead to forehead, nose to nose, lips to lips, skin to skin.

 

There are never any words, just the rushing waters in her ears. She doesn’t miss sentences, for he speaks with his hands, with his lips on her skin. He tells her all those things she had always wanted to hear and then some more. 

 

Her laughter fills her, spilling over, rolling into the sea.

 

O

 

Love is beyond all doubt.

 

She sees him with her, and nothing has ever hurt quite that deep or so sharply than his arm around her. She understands now that love is just darkness reaching, shadows hissing in her ear words that are more snakes than they never were words begin with

 

mine hurt betray bitch unfaithful hate mine mine mine mine, the snakes curl and twine, shedding a new skin out of her tears

 

Too tired, she stops hating just to discover she still loves. Everything in her is shifting sand but this one feeling; bedrock too stubborn to move.

 

Let them rest their heads against each other, for all the good things come with an expire date. 

 

She cannot be undone. 

 

O

 

Love is unrequited.

 

First, kind words and lukewarm smiles. She tastes them eagerly, explores them with the same kind of relish she reserves for the way his name rolls of her tongue, Jackson again and again.

 

Then more words, but vastly different: careless and hasty, indifferent and essential. More true. She cherishes every vowel and consonant and scavenges for more. His smile is rare but real, injecting an overdose of pure hope to her starving veins. 

 

All too soon, she has become immune. 

 

She traces the patterns of his speech, the way his eyes blink and evade, trying to match the changing lines of his face to a compatible word. She hunts for that one final recognition of mutual feelings. 

 

Last, the truth. She asks for it, but it is not what she wants to hear.

 

O

 

Love is patient.

 

She can wait. She will wait, and whatever happens, her

 

love is endless.

 

O


End file.
